The Golem and the Panther
by palomino333
Summary: The world is torn between the opposing wills of Chris Redfield and Albert Wesker. Who is more worthy of the victory?


As much as I dislike Resident Evil 5, I like the background it gave Wesker.

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Once upon a time, there were two men who possessed the greatest power of their day. The first was young, strong, and brave. He was revered for his great courage in battle, unyielding even in the face of death itself. His weapon would always be drawn in defense of himself and his loved ones, although he never hid behind it as a shield. His smile always brought comfort to those he rescued, and his victories brought hope to all. The second was older, cunning, and pensive. He was feared for his cold intellect, always emotionlessly calculating his next move without care for anyone but himself. Gluttonously, he consumed whatever power in reach to meet his own shrouded ends. His dark eyewear reflected that well. His physical power was stronger even than the first man, but he wisely hid it away with his long, dark cloak. His face was chiseled from stone, and set as hard as ice, much like his heart. No one could ever read this edifice of stone, and see the true intentions behind it. That was what made him all the more dangerous.

Each man had his own story, his own reasons for how his character came to be what it was. The first was forced to grow up quickly when the parents of his dear sister and him had their lives taken before their time. Whatever childhood they had had was gone. As sad as the story was, it helped the two to better learn to depend on one another. Brother and sister supported each other like rocks in a storm at sea. As long as they remained strong together, they would not weather away. The second was also robbed of his own innocence long ago. Before he was old enough to even walk, he was taken from his birth parents by an organization of complete strangers. Whatever love and nurturing these people gave him throughout his young life wasn't true; it had the underlying motive of using his intellect to their own means. Although he was most definitely not the first child to be absorbed into this system of abduction, he did not know that until much later on. The isolation was too strong. He became a solitary panther, stalking whatever prey happened to fall into his gaze.

The two had radically different goals, each to give the world in which they lived a completely different face based on their views. Because of the companionship he felt with his sister, the first man believed that every human being deserved a chance to enjoy their lives on Earth. This was why he became a member of the Raccoon City STARS. It was also why he later gave his life over to defending the global populace from the outbreak of a virus that would cause them to become mindless, cannibalistic beings, even if that meant his oath to do so might end with him becoming that way himself. Due to the isolation he had been forced to grow up with, the second man devoted his life to destroying the old, malicious world in order to create a better one. He became the leader of STARS in order to kill its members by way of a number of tests designed with the intent of seeing the true strength of Umbrella's monsters.

His project never did change as he set his sights on the world itself. Rather, his tests simply gained a much larger scale. Instead of a mansion of zombies, why not a prison island, and a continent of the world dominated by them? Why not have heavily populated dwelling areas of Europe and Africa be infested with out-of-control experiments? Why not let the very blood flow out of the cruel company that raised him? It wouldn't matter. He washed his hands of the entire thing because it wasn't his fault that humanity ultimately was a failure of a greater magnitude than its creations.

Could the two have gone through their lives without at least some sort of temptation? Certainly not, for they were both human (although the second was unwillingly so). While one surrendered to it, the other did not. What was this temptation? A woman. The first man was the one to give himself over. He had fallen for his co-worker. It was something that was completely unapproved of by their superiors, but they hadn't cared, especially since it was such a benevolence to each. She was the more logical of the pair, oftentimes keeping him in check, and preventing him from rushing into battle preemptively. Meanwhile, he offered her the gift of his strength, though not overbearingly. He fought off many of those who tried to harm her, but not to the point that she wouldn't be allowed to fight. They worked together, and therefore survived together. However, the second man didn't allow himself to be subjugated to such lowliness. True, some ladies had tried to seduce him for their own means, but their attempts were ultimately thwarted by his callousness.

That untrustworthy red-clad Asian girl…He that knew as soon as he turned his back, she would steal something from him. But then again, that was why he allowed her to think that he gave her an edge over him, when in fact she didn't. He could always use her fondness for that bumbling fool of a federal agent against her later. As for the other, he couldn't stand her. That spoiled brat thought that he was hers just because she fed him his needed injections. Little did she know that she was nothing more than a servant to him.

Neither man was unaware of the other's existence. Nay, for they in fact hated one another, and declared each other arch enemies. Yet, they felt a strange attachment to one another all the same. The first man collapses onto an old wooden chair at a disorganized desk, and sighs in exhaustion. A bare bulb provides a pale, weary light in the surrounding darkness. He places his chin in his hands.

He had been fighting more of Wesker's disgusting creatures that he had deigned to call minions, and the experience had wiped a solid chunk of his energy out. The others were also badly drained. Claire and Jill were passed out at different places around the small apartment they had rented. He was half-ready to surrender to sleep as well. Leon, wherever the hell their government had stationed him, couldn't be reached on his phone or pager. He was either still burning the moonlight oil at three in the morning, or the more likely option, was so fast asleep he didn't give a damn whether it rang/went off or not.

It was during nights like this that Chris wondered if it was ever worth it in the end. They couldn't go on like this forever. Yet, they had to. If they gave up, Wesker would most certainly take over everything with no one to stop him. Redfield found himself thanking God once again that he wasn't alone, otherwise this strain would have been too rough. He didn't want to think of what it would be like to not give Kennedy a cuff on the ear, see his sister smile, or hold his girl in his arms. For a moment, he wondered how Wesker could even survive on his own for so long, and he pitied that lonely spirit. But only for a moment. With a grunt, Chris heaved himself into a more upright sitting position. It was back to work for him.

The second man settles himself gently into his leather chair facing the several computer screens before him, their many lights reflecting off of his sunglasses. He smirks. Yes, Redfield and his two sidekicks did stop that small unit of Hunters from causing any real damage in London, but no matter. They were worn down from the experience, and he hadn't had to lift a finger. Now, all he had to do was set his sights on the morrow. There was a highly promising young scientist in Russia that he had wanted to get his hands on, and it shouldn't be much of a problem to do so. His antagonist would be too worn down to stop him until it was far too late. By the time the scientist would be found, there would be a bullet to his head.

The smirk turned to a frown. Sometimes it was far too easy. Perhaps he should make it harder on himself for a little fun? He pushed that notion to the back of his thoughts to look upon later. Such a shame for Christopher! He couldn't afford a single mistake, whereas his contender could make as many as he wished, and still come out on top in the end. Wesker cracked his knuckles absent-mindedly as he sat in thought, while a nasty grin formed on his face. The poor imbecile would count on his friends and family until their lives were each snuffed out by his nemesis until he was all alone. That was when the real torture would begin, the mental agony, the physical torment…Oh, it would be wonderful to show that nuisance just how much he was out of toleration. When Redfield would beg to die, he wouldn't be given death's mercy. No, he would be kept well alive until his pathetic internal clock wore out, all the while watching the destruction of his beloved planet… The feral grin immediately fell away from Wesker's face as he smoothed a hand through his blonde hair. Tomorrow was for now, and the fun was for later.

So the battle continues on. A happy ending? Unfortunately, my dears, that will remain to be seen. This cataclysmic struggle will end someday, and until it does, pray for the right victor to emerge from the dust.


End file.
